


Team

by winterwaters



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Wishful Thinking, post 2x05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 19:11:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2663126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwaters/pseuds/winterwaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unexpected storm + Reaper attack sends Bellamy and Clarke to the bunker to escape. Post 2x05, mentions of 2x05.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Team

Clarke ran hard, her boots slipping through mud and grime. Fat raindrops pelted her face and blurred her vision but she didn’t slow. Bellamy was on her heels, his breathing labored. 

“You sure it’s this way?” His shout was nearly carried away by the wind.

“Yes! Almost there.” Clarke chanced a glance over her shoulder, seeing his face contorted in pain. He was favoring his right shoulder, where a dark red stain was spreading rapidly through his shirt.

Behind him, she caught the sounds of more footsteps crashing through the underbrush. Bellamy heard it, too, and steeled himself to speed up. 

The Reapers had caught them in a rare unguarded moment. She and Bellamy had been caught in a huge downpour on their way to retrieve supplies from another crashed section of the Ark. The sounds of the storm had masked all other noise, and coupled with the oncoming darkness, the Reapers were upon them before they even realized it. It was a small group, but enough to do damage.

The first arrow had caught Bellamy’s shoulder. Another whizzed past Clarke’s head seconds later. He fell to a knee with a grunt as a Reaper appeared behind him, and Clarke screamed, firing her gun blindly until she could get to him. He yelled something that she couldn’t hear. As soon as she was close and able to pull him up, he yelled directly into her ear.

“Run, princess!”

“Not without you!” She yelled back. She yanked on his good arm and and pulled him along before he could try some boneheaded act of bravery.

Instead of heading towards the camp, Clarke changed course and headed for the bunker she knew was nearby. They just had to make it there before the Reapers did.

She stumbled on a tree root, narrowly avoiding a fall as Bellamy grabbed her arm and heaved her up. His hand drifted down to clasp hers as they continued to run through the brush. Clarke began scouring the ground for the hidden door, making sure they didn’t run right past it. As soon as she spotted it, she pulled them to a halt and together they got it open. Before Bellamy could protest, Clarke pushed him ahead of her so that he had no choice but to jump in or hurt himself further. She climbed in after him, slamming the door over their heads.

Clarke rested on top of the ladder, pressing her head against the cool steel rung with a sigh. Bellamy crouched against the wall. There was nothing but the sounds of their heavy breathing for a moment. She could still hear the wind and rain outside, and even the footsteps of their pursuers, but they were safe for the moment. 

Then her mind caught up to what she had been blocking out until now, and she scrambled down the ladder to sit next to Bellamy. He looked up as she tentatively touched his shoulder.

“What happened to the arrow?” She asked.

“Pulled it out on the way here. All the tree branches kept knocking into it…,” he trailed off, wincing again.

Clarke sighed, her hand trailing up his shoulder and nearly cupping his cheek before she realized what she was doing and pulled back. Aside from his eyes drifting shut, he hadn’t seemed to notice.

“Let me take care of this before it gets worse,” she told him. _And so you won’t be in so much pain._

Bellamy nodded, too exhausted to hide his grimace. Once he was seated on the small bed, she looked through her bag for her kit. Out of habit, Clarke had started keeping a small needle and thread in her medkit. She wasn't happy about having to use it, but if it would save him from further problems, she'd take it. She used her knife to tear off scraps from the bedsheets. The wrap had to be sturdy enough to bind the wound until they could get back to camp.

Bellamy’s eyes were on her as she sat down next to him. Gingerly, she helped him remove his coat, noting how limited his movement was on the right side. He knew it, too, because he removed his shirt awkwardly - first sliding his left arm out, then looping it over his head and letting it slide down his right arm. Clarke tried to mask her worry as she surveyed the angry skin and dried blood. 

Wetting the fabric with water from her canteen, she carefully began to clean the injury, mindful of every twitch in his jaw that told her he was hurting. When she could see the wound more clearly, she bit her lip. It wasn’t as clean as she would have liked, and his pulling the arrow out had caused it to gape larger. 

“That bad, huh?”

Bellamy’s voice startled her into looking at him. He attempted to grin, but it came out as more of a grimace. 

“I need to stitch it up. The rags are flimsy as it is, and I don’t want to chance it.” She met his eyes. “It’ll hold better until we get back.”

He looked at her for a moment, then nodded. “Do it. I trust you.”

He’d said it casually, but Clarke was warmed by the declaration nonetheless. Coming from Bellamy, she didn’t take it lightly.

As she reached for her needle and thread, she heard his low chuckle. “Always prepared, aren’t you, princess?”

He grinned properly this time, and she smiled back. “You’ll thank me later.”

“I usually do.”

She shook her head but the smile didn’t disappear. When she had the thread hooked on the needle, she looked up. “Ready?”

His head was bowed, and his hands clutched the mattress tightly. “Get it over with.”

Clarke put her hand over his, squeezing once, and then got to work. He was sturdy as ever, only letting out a ragged breath now and then. She forced herself to breathe and focus, keeping the stitches methodical and as tight as possible. 

Tying off the final thread, she took the last few strips of fabric and tied them securely around his shoulder. Bellamy raised his arm experimentally, managing to raise it enough to be useful before dropping it with a groan.

“Easy,” Clarke said. “We don’t know how deep the damage it. The muscle needs time to heal.”

She got up and moved her things to the floor. Then she took Bellamy by the shoulders and forced him to lay down. 

“What-”

“You need rest,” she said firmly. “We’re going to be stuck here until morning, so you may as well start now.”

“What about you?”

“Believe it or not I’m getting used to sleeping on the floor.” She smiled, but he didn’t return it. 

Instead, his hand went to hers, which were clasped in her lap.

“Your hands are shaking.” 

Clarke shrugged. “Just cold, I guess.”

The look on his face said he didn’t believe her one bit, but he didn’t call her on it. Instead, his hand stayed wrapped around hers. Clarke stared at their grip, surprised at how natural and comfortable it felt. By the time she looked back up, Bellamy’s breathing had slowed and his eyes were shut. He looked so much younger without his face creased in concern like it so often was nowadays.

Clarke watched him a few minutes longer before slowly extracting her hand from his. Putting her things away, she took off her soaked jacket and boots and lay down on the cold floor. She fell asleep to the sound of Bellamy’s steady breaths.

~~~~~~~~~

A large boom startled Clarke awake. She was reaching for her gun and sitting up when a hand grasped her elbow. 

“It’s just the thunder,” Bellamy said.

“Oh.” Clarke ran a hand through her hair and set her gun back down. Then she noticed the familiar dark jacket on her lap, the one she’d pushed off when she awoke. She looked back at Bellamy.

He shrugged. “You looked cold.”

A smile threatened her lips but she tamped it down. “How long have you been up?”

“Not too long.”

“Is it your shoulder? Should I-”

“Relax, princess. I’m alright.” His voice lowered. “You did a good job.”

Now she did smile. Laying back down, she put her pack under her head. “So why are you awake?”

“Can’t stop thinking.”

Clarke waited a moment, then when he didn’t elaborate, she said, “About Finn?”

She heard him shift to look at her but kept staring at the ceiling. It had been over a week since they found Finn in the village. Over a week that she’d kept replaying his emotionless rampage, his _I found you_ countless times in her head. He’d tried talking to her since, but she had been avoiding him, keeping busy with the camp and Raven and the patients. She had no idea what she would even say. And she didn’t want to risk anything happening if he did slip back into that terrifying, stoic mode once more.

“Clarke?”

Startled, she turned her head to find Bellamy right next to her on the ground. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve been saying your name for five minutes, and I can’t see shit in here. I got worried.” 

“Your shoulder-”

“Forget my shoulder. Are you okay?”

She swallowed and looked away again. “I don’t know.” Pausing, she tried to find the right words. “I don’t even know what to say to him. I can’t lie… I won’t. I won’t say that it was worth it, that it was excusable in any way just because he was trying to find us.”

He didn’t reply, but his silence was enough of an agreement.

She continued thinking out loud. “But then I wonder, what would I do if I you or him went missing? Wouldn’t I do everything I could?”

Bellamy nodded. “Of course you would. Within reason, though. Clarke, you’re the one who was telling us this whole time that we don’t get to dictate who lives and who dies. You wouldn’t lose sight of that.”

She turned to him. “How can you be so sure?”

A faint smile appeared on his face. “Because you never lost sight of it even when I did. You were the one who brought me back. You’re our conscience. Our incredibly stubborn conscience,” he added.

She searched his face and found only honesty. For that, she was grateful. 

“What are we going to do?” She asked.

It was his turn to sigh. “I wish I knew. I don’t know if it’s better for him to stay at camp or be with us, where we can keep an eye on him.”

“I doubt he’d even agree to stay behind,” Clarke murmured.

But Bellamy was right. Finn was a loose cannon at the moment, and there would be no easy choice. Whatever they decided was going to put someone at risk, until they could figure out how to deal with him. Whatever “dealing with him” even meant.

Clarke put a hand to her head. She wanted nothing more than to disappear into the bunker and come out in a time when Finn hadn’t become a mass murderer, when their people weren’t trapped inside some sick experimental facility, when everything hadn’t become so messed up. The tears she'd kept at bay for days now leaked out, slowly but surely, and she closed her eyes against it all. A warm, solid hand gripped hers, their fingers intertwining. Bellamy didn’t say a word as she cried, but his grip remained strong. 

When her tears finally subsided, she rubbed her eyes with her sleeve. Bellamy sat up and ripped off a strip of the sheet, offering it to her wordlessly. Not for the first time, Clarke was glad for the darkness of the bunker. 

He settled down again, shoulder to shoulder, and there was silence once more as they each grappled with their thoughts. Just as Clarke was drifting to sleep, Bellamy spoke.

“Why didn’t you run?”

“What?” Clarke turned to him.

“Earlier, when the Reapers attacked. I told you to run, and you didn’t. Why?”

“Since when do you expect me to listen to you?” She said lightly.

When Bellamy didn’t respond, she twisted so she was facing him completely. “You wanted me to run so what, so you could go on a suicide mission? That’s not how this works.”

“You could have gotten back to camp in time instead of risking your neck by dragging me along,” he argued. “I’d have held them off for long enough.”

“At the cost of your life?” Clarke was getting angry now. "What good would that have done? Besides, I knew the bunker was here."

"And what if it hadn't been?" He pressed. "What if it wasn't here, and we were attacked?"

"Then we fight."

Bellamy shook his head. "You don't get it. Between you and me, princess, who do you think is the priority here?" Clarke only stared at him, and he sighed. "If you asked everyone in that camp, it would be you, hands down." 

"What?" She was shocked that he would even think that way. "Bellamy, that's insane. You know we need you more than ever."

"Think about who you're talking about, Clarke. The 'we' that's stuck in Mount Weather, or the 'we' that's back at camp?" His voice was flat, resigned. "It's not even a choice for them. They'd never forgive me if you got hurt trying to help me."

Clarke was going to argue further, then thought better of it. Instead, she said, "Fine. If they're blind enough to think I'm somehow more important, then they'll have to listen when I say they're not getting me without you." When he didn't reply, she poked him. "Do you hear me? You're _my_ priority. If they want to protect me, if they want me to stay, whatever it is - they'll have to keep you safe, too. Otherwise, they get nothing."

Bellamy's face was a mix of emotions. He was looking at her like he had right after she'd practically tackled him at the gate so many days ago. Like he couldn't believe what he was seeing; like he wanted to see it again. The thought made her flush. Even in the dark, Clarke thought he might be able to see her better than anyone else. 

When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. "And why would you do that?"

“We’re a team, Bellamy. We don’t leave each other behind. We have each other’s back.”

He was silent so long that she thought he'd fallen asleep. She turned to lay on her back, still annoyed, when he said quietly, “I like the sound of that.”

Clarke smiled in the dark. “Good. So stop trying to get rid of me.”

“I stopped trying a long time ago, princess,” he replied.

She could tell he was smiling and rolled her eyes. “Goodnight, Bellamy.”

“Night, Clarke.”

Clarke rolled over so her back was to him, but her smile didn’t fade for a long while. Daylight would be coming in a few hours, and with it, all the troubles that had existed the day before. Likely, it would bring more surprises, too. But Clarke thought she might be able to face them, as long as Bellamy was by her side. Because they were a team. That was something she could always count on. 

**Author's Note:**

> It's kind of a headcanon of mine that Clarke would have a little suture kit, just in case. Hope it worked XD


End file.
